The Ghost of Clotter's Creek
by aliasfluffyone
Summary: There are a lot of abandoned, desolate towns in the Wild West. Clotter's Creek was something else. Trying for amnesty days. c October 1882


Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

The Ghost of Clotter's Creek, Alias Icy Irene

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Whoa."

Kid dug in his knees and heels as the startled horse reared back. The strong man had his hands full struggling with the slippery, wet reins. When the horse had all four hooves back on the ground, he stroked the animal's neck, gently soothing the horse.

"I should have been watching the road better," Kid berated himself.

The tired man had been riding with his hat pulled low, his sheepskin coat buttoned tight against the October rain, arms pulled close in to his body to conserve heat.

"What spooked you boy?"

In response, the horse blew hard, shaking his head and mane, exhaling a warm breath into the chill air. The white hot breath dissipated in the drizzle, but further up the trail where it dipped down by the riverbank something shrouded in white remained. Kid raised one gloved hand to tilt back the brim of his brown hat. Water trickled down the back of his neck, tracing a cold path down his spine. He shivered involuntarily. A figure in a flowing white dress turned to face Kid, arms outstretched beseechingly.

"Ma'am, are you all right?"

Kid wondered what a woman would be doing out in the woods by herself this late in the afternoon. She didn't even have a coat on and the rain was fast turning to sleet. He glanced to the right. Although no lights appeared in the windows, the clapboard buildings of the town below were visible between the trees. The concerned man couldn't leave her out here, and he couldn't bring her into town.

"Do you need help?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What's taking you so long Thaddeus?" grumbled Heyes. "It's getting dark."

The dark haired man added another stick to the smoky fire. He prodded the coals and was rewarded with a bright red glow for a moment before the sizzle of wet wood dulled the color to gray again. It was hard to keep a campfire going in this weather, but he'd been at their meeting spot long enough to build a crude lean-to of pine branches to keep most of the rain off. The blanket he'd laid on the ground beneath the branches gave him a dry spot to sit. The pot he'd nestled into the coals bubbled and gave off an aroma of coffee. All that was missing was his partner.

"Going around Clotter's Creek shouldn't take you this long."

Heyes frowned at the campfire and poked it once more. They had stopped beside the sign that said welcome to Clotter's Creek township, population 83, Sheriff John Q. Walters. Kid had frowned in recognition at the name of the sheriff. From the hill overlooking the valley early this morning, they could see a faint outline of a trail around the town and the approaching storm cloud. The main road zigzagged its way down the slope to the town and back up the opposite ridge. They'd agreed to meet at the intersection on the other side of town. Of course they didn't know a graveyard was here when they split up.

"If we'd known the town was abandoned we could of rode together, maybe even stayed in one of those empty buildings," groused Heyes.

His bay whickered a warning. Heyes jerked his head up. His horse had walked the length of its tether to stand beneath a rock overhang. Heyes looked past the animal. His sharp ears heard footsteps mingled with the sound of hoof steps, but he couldn't see far on the wooded trail in the foggy twilight. A branch snapped as Kid stepped into view leading his black gelding. Brown eyes narrowed.

"You're walking? That's what took you so long?"

Kid staggered forward another step. Heyes was up on his feet, racing to his partner. The rest of the horse came into view. Kid's sheepskin jacket lay across the saddle. A wisp of white fog clung to Kid's coat. Kid stumbled forward and Heyes caught him before his partner's knees hit the ground.

"Why aren't you wearing your coat?" protested Heyes. "You're freezing."

"She was cold…"

"She?" Heyes turned his head, searching for someone, anyone. "Who?"

"Don't know," rasped Kid. "She hasn't spoken a word."

The horse stepped all the way into the clearing. The fog released its grip on Kid's sheepskin, and wafted towards a gnarled old oak. It passed through a broken fence post. As it reached the tombstone, another wraithlike wisp of vapor arose as if in greeting.

"Take her to town."

Kid's blue eyes rolled back in his head as he passed out. Heyes shook his head.

"I'm not doing anything until I get you warm!"

Heyes hauled his partner underneath the lean-to. The black gelding followed after the men, reins dragging the ground. Heyes reached for another piece of wood for the fire and found himself staring at Kid's horse eye to eye. He reached for the horse's reins instead, thinking to wrap his partner in his sheepskin, but when he pulled the jacket off the saddle his fingers recoiled from the touch of the cold lining. It felt frigid.

"There hasn't been enough sleet to make it this cold," hissed Heyes.

Working quickly, Heyes dropped the garment by the edge of the fire. He stretched Kid out on the blanket beneath the lean-to and stripped off his wet shirt to reveal red long johns. Heyes reached for Kid's bedroll. He left the damp outer blanket in a heap beside Kid's coat and wrapped his partner's torso with the warm dry inner blanket. Removing Kid's boots, gun belt and jeans took longer. He used his own last dry blanket to wrap his partner's legs. Kid's horse whickered.

"I haven't forgotten you."

Heyes unsaddled Kid's horse and tethered it beside his own with a feedbag. He returned to the lean-to and sat down beside his unconscious cousin. Gentle fingers touched Kid's forehead. A little warmer? Perhaps? Heyes added another log to the fire before reaching for the whisky bottle in his saddle bags. He added a generous dollop to a tin cup and filled the rest of the cup with steaming coffee. Soup would have been better, but he didn't have any.

"Come on Thaddeus," urged Heyes.

Heyes ran one arm beneath his partner's shoulders and lifted Kid up a little bit. With his other hand he raised the coffee cup and forced some steaming liquid into Kid's mouth. Kid spluttered at first and turned away from the drink. Heyes took a firmer tone.

"Thaddeus, you need to drink this, get something warm inside you."

Heyes pressed the cup against Kid's mouth once more. This time, his partner's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. The younger man's dark eyelashes fluttered. Blue eyes blinked open. Kid took a few more gulps of the fiery liquid and then pushed the cup away. Color began to return to his pale face.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"That woman. You need to help her," urged Kid. "Take her back to town. I can't. If Sheriff Walters recognizes…"

"Thaddeus, Sheriff Walters doesn't live in Clotter's Creek anymore," interrupted Heyes. He set the cup down by the campfire. "No one lives there. It's a ghost town."

"Huh?" Kid blinked his eyes in confusion. "Then where did she come from?"

"You tell me," demanded Heyes. "I haven't seen a woman."

"What do you mean?"

Kid struggled to prop himself up on one arm. His disoriented eyes searched the campsite. Heyes released his grip on the muscular man and looked as well. In the short time since Kid had arrived, twilight had turned to night. Horses munched contentedly beneath the rocky overhang beside them. On the other side of their shelter a gloomy gaping hole of darkness stretched off into the woods, the trail Kid and his horse had been on. Their campfire glowed directly in front of them. Beyond the fire, lengthening shadows crawled out from the trees, stretching dark claws across the little clearing. Darkness obscured the tombstones Heyes knew were beyond the broken fence.

"I saw her, she was there," insisted Kid.

"Then where is she?" demanded Heyes. He gestured back at the trail. "Where in the wet, rainy woods did you find a woman?"

"By the river crossing."

Heyes rolled his eyes. If there was a woman that needed rescuing in the middle of nowhere, Kid would find her. But some women, like Janet and Lorraine, had other plans for their would-be rescuer.

"She was young, pretty," continued Kid. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion above his chest. "She wore a white dress with fancy embroidering up top, flowers or something."

"Did she say anything? Tell you her name?"

Heyes breathed a fervent prayer. Please don't let her name be Irene. He'd stopped in town to rest his horse. Under the awning of the empty newspaper office he'd seen the last printing of the Clotter's Creek Circular pasted to the glass window. It showed how panicked the newsman had been to leave without taking the expensive glass panes. The purported news read more like a penny dreadful. Folks were leaving town because Clotter's Creek was haunted by one vengeful bride. Icy Irene's cold touch caused hypothermia, her kiss was fatal. Kid's befuddled eyes blinked at the panic in his voice.

"She didn't say anything, seemed to be in shock or something," answered Kid. "Blackie was skittish, didn't want to let me put her in the saddle at first. I had to lead him."

Kid started to rise. Heyes pressed a hand against his partner's chest. The gloved hand that shot out and grasped his wrist was icy cold. Heyes hissed.

"Let me see your hands!"

Kid held out both hands. His partner's gloves were as cold as the lining of his sheepskin jacket. Heyes peeled off the gloves to reveal fingers blue with cold. He poured more hot coffee into the tin cup and thrust it towards his partner.

"Hold this with both hands," ordered Heyes. "And drink all of it. Hypothermia is dangerous."

"But…"

"You are in no condition to go searching for anyone now," insisted Heyes. "Right now you need to get warm."

"First light, we go looking…"

Kid swallowed the last of the hot coffee and blinked sleepily. Heyes could tell his partner was done in. He reached for another log and tossed it onto the fire. It flared briefly, then Heyes decided to add another. After all, no one lived in the town below and Grampa always said a bonfire kept spirits away on All Hallows Eve. Heyes determined he was going to keep watch over his partner all night long and he didn't want the fire going out. The moon rose above the tree line. Misty shapes skittered through the cemetery. Heyes shivered.

"First light we get outta here."

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Happy Halloween


End file.
